


What If

by silsecri



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silsecri/pseuds/silsecri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would have happened if Dean hadn't come back at the end of the pilot?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What If

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story, it spent a long time kicking around my computer and then it was posted to LJ a few years ago. I'm pretty sure I wrote it after season three ended... maybe season four. Kind of an experiment for me. Season 1 AU/rewrite.

**What If**  
lyra

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to.”

Like that had ever made a difference with Sam.

Dean drove his hurt away with every mile the Impala ate. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, but he’d hoped.

It was just that this meant Dean couldn’t keep denying the truth any longer. Sam was really gone. He hadn’t actually said the words but sometimes silence spoke louder than words anyway. Winchesters knew that really well.

Two years.

It definitely hadn’t been a matter of missed chances and never finding the moment. It had been a deliberate ‘keep away’ Dean had chosen to ignore.

Dad was missing, for God sake! Wasn’t that enough to bring Sam back?

Well, no, obviously it wasn’t.

Maybe Dean hadn’t made it clear how dire the situation really was. Sam was right. Dad had a tendency to disappear on them when Sam was in high school. But it had been different from the moment he left. They were a team.

Dean refused to acknowledge exactly what that said about Dad sending him to New Orleans…

No.

His father hadn’t sent him away purposely to disappear. He was in trouble.

Dean knew it.

\- - -

Sam watched his life burn.

Every last hope he’d ever held of living his life away from the Winchester legacy crumbled to ashes with Jess.

Firemen, cops, neighbors… faceless people dancing with and around him.

But the only person who could ever know what he felt, who could even understand what he’d seen, and lost…

He’d turned his back on that person hoping the sacrifice would earn him peace.

And now, Sam didn’t know how to atone for his sins.

Sins of omission (I’m sorry, Jess).

Sins of commission (I’m sorry, Dean).

\- - -

Ben was asleep but Hailey couldn’t stop the thoughts racing in her mind long enough to join him. She watched Dean keeping guard, sitting at the fire and turning page after page of that journal he carried.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Hailey asked him. He didn’t seem surprised that she was awake.

Dean smirked at her. “It’s what I do.” His hold on the journal tightened imperceptibly.

She gave him a puzzled look. “Killing things that don’t exist?” she asked slowly, almost as if she was afraid he’d take offence and change his mind about helping them.

He snorted. “Hunting things. Saving people.” His voice hardened when he added, “The family business.” _Without the family,_ he finished in his mind.

\- - -

_The number you’ve dialed has been disconnected._

Sam glared at the cell phone, barely reigning on the impulse to throw it at the wall.

It had taken weeks to find the courage to finish punching in the number and all for nothing.

Four years is a long time. More than enough time to switch numbers and forget to tell someone who didn’t answer your calls anymore, anyway.

\- - -

Dean held Lucas’s limp body in his arms. Was he too late? Please, don’t let it be too late.

He could hear Andrea calling her son. She’d been torn between going to her father or son for the fleetest moment before diving after Dean. Even after he’d ordered her not to.

Not that he blamed her.

Dean dragged Lucas to the dock and saw that Andrea had already pushed herself out of the water. He held him out to her and helped her get him on the platform before making his way up. By the time Lucas hit the wood he was coughing out the water he’d inhaled.

Andrea hugged her little boy to her chest, sobbing. Lucas cuddled up to her, visibly distressed.

Dean started to get up but he froze when he felt the little hand clutching his jeans.

\- - -

Sam let the match fall into the open grave.

He had trouble believing this was all he had left now.

No future. Without Jess beside him the whole picture perfect life he’d been working for no longer pulled at him.

No past. He’d burned all his bridges on that front. Without knowing it – Dean – and knowing it – Dad. He’d put up a wall around himself to keep his childhood nightmare locked away.

And it didn’t matter he wanted out now. He’d managed to lose the key when he’d turned his back on Dean.

Only the present opened his arms for Sam now. One evil creature at a time.

\- - -

A plane passed over his head, too close for comfort, too loud, but Dean kept staring at his phone.

He didn’t understand. He’d called his father’s number dozens of times since he’d disappeared. When had he changed his message?

The phone crashed against the fence and fell to the ground in pieces.

Dean could barely breathe he was so furious. He wasn’t stupid. He’d suspected from the beginning Dad wasn’t exactly missing, not against his will.

Having proof of it only made it worse.

_I get it, okay. You don’t want me close. Fuck!_

\- - -

_Please, Sam, call me. Call anyone. We’re worried._

Sam disconnected the call.

He guessed he should feel bad for Becky and all the friends he’d left behind. Jess’s sister had called once or twice. His advisor had left a message post-poning his interview until he ‘felt better’.

Snatches of the life he’d carved from shame and betrayal trying to reach him.

But all he felt was numb.

He had to get to Dad. And that meant finding Dean. Because God knew John Winchester knew how to disappear.

He could only hope Dean still wanted to be found.

\- - -

Dean looked at his reflection on the mirror in the motel bathroom. He wet the cloth and methodically scrubbed the dried blood from his face.

Years of not being able to save everybody made for lots of dead people on his head. Mary was right about that.

It was a long, old list. Twenty-two years old, actually. Starting with his mother.

It made no difference that there was nothing he could have done to save her. Almost five years old and carrying the weight of the world in his arms.

It was a weight he’d never learned how to shed.

\- - -

“This is what you’ve been doing since you left?”

Sam started to nod but the wording felt untrue, somehow.

“More like this is what I should’ve been doing before I left,” he said, trying to explain himself to Becky. “This is what I’ve done all my life.”

He watched the pity lurking behind Becky’s eyes. Even after saving her life and clearing Zack’s name, she still couldn’t see everything this life meant. She only saw the danger, the loneliness, the freaky crazy life he must have led.

Basically, she could only see the same Sam had seen all those years growing up.

But he saw different now. Maybe, because she couldn’t.

He saw the lives he’d touched. The families they’d saved. The souls they’d put to rest.

He could now see that it meant something.

He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

\- - -

What was so important about this life that Sam couldn’t spare a few days to help him anyway?

Dean looked around the frat house with mixed feelings. This didn’t really look like the kind of thing Sam would appreciate anyway. He was _almost_ sure Sam hadn’t even stepped inside a frat house.

Then again, things hadn’t gone exactly like Dean had expected. A few days had become a few weeks, then a few months.

Fuck it. He could keep his college life and his hot girlfriend and his stupid perfect future.

Without his family.

Without Dean.

Well, Dean didn’t need Sam either.

He strode out of the house, glaring at anyone who dared meet his eyes.

Yeah, he didn’t believe it either.

\- - -

Missouri glared at John. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just put your kid through?” John avoided her eyes and that only made her madder.

He closed his eyes, his breath caught somewhere between his mouth and his lungs, choking him. His fingers were drawn to his ring, as if pulled by a magnet. When he realized what he was doing he opened his eyes to look at it, mesmerized.

“Shame on you, John Winchester! You told me you’d be there with him. You promised.” Her anger crashed into his stony silence. “That’s the only reason I called the child, and you know it.”

John’s eyes met hers briefly before he went back to staring at his ring. What could he say to that? It was the truth. And the woman throwing daggers with her tongue didn’t need him to say it aloud.

Missouri studied the broken man before her. It pained her, what he’d been through. What he’d put his family through from the moment she’d told him the truth.

Sometimes she regretted her actions. But his mission was more important than-

She stopped the thought. Ashamed.

“Did you know Mary was still there?”

The flash of shock and pain in the eyes that finally met hers told her he hadn’t known.

“Mary?”

Missouri recalled the agony that had paralyzed Dean when Mary had finally revealed herself. The longing in his eyes when Mary’s hand reached for his face.

She sighed, suddenly tired. “Yeah.”

\- - -

“Dammit,” Dean muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Thanks anyway, Caleb. Just call if you hear anything, please.”

_“No problem, man. Sorry I couldn’t help. You know your old man’s a tricky bastard.”_

Dean snorted. “I sure know it.”

_“You tried Jim yet?”_

Sighing, Dean looked over the short list he’d made. Caleb was the last name on it. “Yeah. No one’s heard of him.”

A charged silence lingered between the two hunters. No news wasn’t always good news in their world.

_“I’ll keep my ears to the ground, Dean. Take care.”_

“Thanks.”

Dean set the phone on the bed and reached for the journal. He’d read the thing from beginning to end several times, memorizing every little detail.

He’d glanced through it before, of course. Cross-checking facts and reciting rituals.

He’d never paid much attention to the personal stuff. Not until he’d found himself alone with the Impala and the journal as his only family.

His father used to write little things about their lives on it, at first.

Less and less with the pass of the years.

Dean didn’t remember not speaking after mom.

He didn’t like to think how little he actually spoke in the day to day now.

The phone beeped, signaling a new message received. Dean picked it up and stared at the two numbers on the screen.

It figured.

\- - -

Sam kicked the door closed. Stupid car.

He opened up the trunk and pulled his bags out.

Looking around he saw the empty road. It had been a while since he’d passed the last car.

Walking it was, then.

He wasn’t all that far from Bobby’s anyway. He’d catch a bus. Bobby could help him get a new car.

Up ahead Sam saw a blonde girl sitting next to the road.

\- - -

Eight months and still nothing.

Dean watched the bus taking Emily away and felt empty.

Yeah, he’d saved her life and justice would be served. Now that the magic tree was ashes the whole town would perish.

Once upon a time that would have been more than enough to make Dean’s day.

Of course, those days Dean had his family with him, a mission in life and the open road before him.

Somehow, things weren’t the same on his own.

\- - -

John stared at his phone with an angry look. Anger worked better than terror. Anger would help him fix it.

God. Dying.

How could Dean be dying? That just wasn’t an option.

John threw the phone down on the bed and looked at all his research hanging on the walls.

It had to be a sign. Why else would he have decided to finally take care of such a low-priority case that had been waiting as a passing reference in his journal for almost two years now?

It couldn’t be a coincidence. Maybe someone was looking after them.

He pushed the thought that he was allowing someone to die so Dean could live to the back of his mind. Just another piece of his soul he would willingly sacrifice for his boys.

He checked the copy of the journal he’d made before he left it behind for Dean. He made sure there was enough to get Dean in that tent but not enough for him to figure out what was really going on.

He picked up the phone again and typed a message.

_Norfolk, Nebraska. Demon deals?_

He hesitated.

Dean was so mad at him right now. Getting a job when he must be feeling terrified and completely alone could be the final nail on the coffin of his son’s faith in him. But he couldn’t really afford to call Dean and talk to him. Dean knew him too well.

_Hang on, Dean._

Even if he felt like shit Dean would never just lie down and wait to die in a hospital. He’d be pissed at John for doing this but he’d still go take care of it. _Just get there, son,_ he silently pleaded. His fingers found Mary’s ring without him noticing. _Look after him, baby._

Now he could only hope.

\- - -

Sam grit his teeth and hung onto the sheets, riding out the vision.

And it was a vision. There was no denying it now.

He’d dreamt of Jess’ death for weeks before it happened and his resolute denial of what was happening had cost Jess her life.

When he’d started dreaming of his old house and the family currently leaving there, Sam had reluctantly made his way back to Kansas.

He’d stopped along the way to check with anyone he could remember John ever being in contact with. Trying to find Dean.

When he’d gotten to Lawrence, he’d spent a few days watching the house, but nothing seemed to happen. He’d even lied his way into the house but there was nothing there.

Sam had hoped he’d been mistaken then.

But there was a man dying in his dream.

When the pain receded enough to allow him movement, Sam got up and rushed to the bathroom.

He’d learned his lesson.

If he had anything to say, no one else was dying on his watch.

\- - -

Dean scanned the paper. Petty theft. Husband beats wife. Missing granny.

Same old, same old in small town America.

High school cheerleaders having a charity car wash. Mmm.

Local editor praising life in small communities over the big cities.

_Manhunt continues for stealth killer. Second victim. Inside her locked apartment._

Dean re-read the article from the beginning.

Chicago.

Brutal killing in unexplainable circumstances. That sounded like their kind of thing.

 _His_ kind of thing.

\- - -

Dean hit the wall, his breath knocked out of him, and slid to the ground. He put his arms up trying to protect his face.

Fucking shadows.

The door crashed open and he turned towards it.

Sam stood in the doorway, a lit flare in each hand.

\- - -

Sam helped Dean out of the Impala, ignoring his brother’s annoyed complaints.

He’d barely managed to convince Dean to let him drive because he had blood falling into his eyes.

The moment he’d sat in the Impala he’d felt a pressure he didn’t know he’d been carrying easing out.

He was home.

“I’m in room 16,” Dean grunted at him and Sam headed that way.

With his mind already on what he needed to treat Dean’s wounds Sam almost didn’t notice the shadow standing in the dark room.

But he didn’t miss Dean stiffening against him.

And he sure didn’t miss his brother’s disbelieving word.

“Dad?”

 

 

_fin_  



End file.
